The Blind Spot by Homer Eon Flint and Austin Hall (black female authors txt) 📗

“I have discovered many things, my boy, but I am not omnipotent. Your coming has made possible my last hope that I may return to my own kind, and take with me the secrets of life. You have done right to trust your instinct; have no fear, yet remember that if you—if we—make one false step we are lost.

“Finally, if you should succeed in your contest with the Senestro, I shall send for you; but if you fail, I know how to die.

“Return at once to the Mahovisal. Don't cross into the Region of Carbon. Take care how you go back; the Bars are waiting. But you can put full confidence in the Rhamdas.”

Then the speaker dropped the language of the earth and used the Thomahlian tongue again: “It is I who speak—I, the Prophet; the Prophet Jarados!”

All in the voice of Dr. Holcomb.

The blazing leaf faded into blackness, and the talking ceased. Chick was glad of the darkness; the whole thing was like magic, and too good to believe. The first actual words from the missing professor! Each syllable was frozen into Watson's memory.

The Geos was clutching his arm.

“Did you understand, my lord? We heard the voice of the prophet! What did he say?”

“Yes, I understand. He used his own language—my language. And he said”—taking the reins firmly into his hands—“he said that we must return to the Thomahlia. And we must beware of the Bars.”

There was no thought of questioning him. Without waiting the Geos' command, the Jan Lucar began putting the craft about. Watson glanced at the sky; the great spectacle was gone; and he demanded of the soldier:

“How can we get back? How do we find our way?”

For there was no visible light save the strange, fitful glow from that uncanny sky to guide them; no lights from the inky carpet of the Thomahlia, lights such as one would expect for the benefit of fliers. But the soldier touched a button, and instantly another and larger dial was illumined above the instruments.

It revealed a map or chart of a vast portion of the Thomahlia. On the farther edge there appeared an area coloured to represent water, and adjoining this area was a square spot labeled “The Mahovisal.” And about midway from this point to the near edge of the dial a red dot hung, moving slowly over the chart.

“The red dot, my lord, indicates our position,” explained the Jan. “In that manner we know at all times where we are located, and which way we are flying. We shall arrive in the Mahovisal shortly.”

As he spoke the craft was gaining speed, and soon was travelling at an even greater rate than before. The red dot began to crawl at an astonishing speed. Of course, they had the benefit of the pull of gravity, now; apparently they would make the journey in a few minutes. But incredible though the speed might be, there was nothing but the red dot to show it.

The Geos felt like talking. “My lord, the sign is conclusive. It is a marvel, such as only the prophet could possibly have produced; with all our science we could not duplicate such splendour. Only once before has the Thomahlia seen it.”

Already they were near enough to the surface to make out the clustered, blinking lights of the towns on the plain below. Ahead of them queer streamers of pale rays thrust through the darkness. Watson recognised them as the beams of the far-distant searchlights; and then and there he gave thanks for one thing, at least, in which the Thomahlians had seemingly progressed no further than the people of the earth.

Coming a little nearer, Chick made out a number of bright, glittering, insect-like objects, revealed by these searchlights. The Jan Lucar said:

“The Bars, my lord. They are waiting; and they will head us off if they can.”

“The work of Senestro, I suppose. I thought he claimed to some honour.”

“It is not the prince's work, my lord,” replied the soldier. “His D'Hartian and Kospian followers, some of them, have no scruples as to how they might slay the 'false one', as they think you.”

“Suppose,” hazarded Watson, “suppose I WERE the false one?”

Both the Geos and the Jan smiled. But the Rhamda's voice was very sure as he replied:

“If you were false, my lord, I would slay you myself.”

They were very near the Mahovisal now. Below was the unmistakable opalescence, somehow produced by powerful illumination, as intense as sunlight itself. The red dot was almost above the black square on the lighted chart. And directly ahead, the air was becoming alive with the beam-revealed aircraft. How could they get by in safety?

But Chick did not know the Jan Lucar. The soldier said:

“My lord is not uneasy?”

“Of course not,” with unconcern. “Why?”

“Because I propose something daring. I am free to admit, my lord, that were the Geos and I alone, I should not attempt it. But not even the Bars,” with magnificent confidence, “can stand before us now! We have had the proof of the Jarados, and we know that no matter what the odds, he will carry us through.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I propose to shoot it, my lord.” And without explaining the Jan asked the Geos: “Are you agreeable? The June Bug will hold; the prophet will protect us.”

“Surely,” returned the Rhamda. “There is nothing to fear, now, for those who are in the company of the chosen.”

Watson wondering watched the Jan as he tilted the nose of the June Bug and began to climb at an all but perpendicular angle straight into the heavens. Mile after mile, in less than as many minutes, they hurtled towards the zenith, so that the lights of the city dimmed until only the searching shafts could be seen. Chick began to guess what they were going to do; that the Jan Lucar was nearly as reckless as he was handsome.

At last the soldier brought the craft to a level. They soared along horizontally for a while; the Jan kept his eye fixed on the red dot. And when it was directly above the black square he stated:

“It is considered a perilous feat, my lord. We are going to drop. If we make it from this height, not only will we break all records, but will have proved the June Bug the superior in this respect, as she is in speed. It is our only chance in any circumstances, but with the Jarados at our side, we need not fear that the craft will stand the strain. We shall go through them like stone; before they know it we shall be in the drome—in less than a minute.”

“From this height?” Chick concealed a shudder behind a fair show of scepticism. “A minute is not much time.”